I spent a lovely day in the seventh circle of hell.

I lay down to sleep at 2 am. Still awake at 9 am when my dad calls. I agreed to work his church booth passing out popcorn at a Labor Day festival.

Popcorn, my ass.

Ok, here's the start. Since I figure I'll be sitting all day, I wear steel-toed boots, heavy jeans, a black shirt, and all my chain accessories. First thing that happens? Heavy lifting, getting the tent set up, the plasma screen, wiring the stereo equipment, setting up the machine...

The day turns into a muggy, humid 92 degree sun-stripping-the-flesh-from-fair-skin hell. Dealing with annoying kids.

The parade starts coming through, and I'm called for an emergency at the church float. The generator for the amps, etc. on the back of the float is cutting in and out. There's no room on the float for me to stand, and the generator is attached to the hitch between the SUV and the float. They ask me to walk alongside the float and restart it as needed. Stupid me. "Sure."

Walk, my ass.

I end up running, in this weather, in that getup, the whole two mile procession through.

I am exhausted, and as soon as the float stops, I realize we're at the high school, a mile and a half from the booth. I have to run back.

I finally get to the booth, and both other workers take off leaving me to make balloon animals and serve popcorn by myself.

Then the ultimate horror happens. A clown stops by.

I hate. HATE. HATE. clowns.

Finally at 6 the festival is over. I'm exhausted beyond words. I get a break, right?

Wrong. While dad talks to the clown, I tear down the whole shebang myself and pack it into the van in trips. The van is parked six blocks away.

Going to bathe. Going comatose. Night.